Would end up as an artist, his imaginings transforming into the crazy folding
Of paper forms decorated by the randomly falling ink droplets emitted
To the timing of humming motors and interlocking gears.
How could I have imagined that this lanky boy would reappear in my life
As a grown man, someone I would want to spend the whole day and more
Wandering past giant-sized photographs the American worker dwarfed within
The bowels of a jet engine, or leaning over silicon wafers in a semiconductor fab.
And loving it all, every minute.
I could never have imagined this as the train clacked its way down from Boston to NYC,
The thing about imagination - anything is possible, we must
Only show up for it when it does.
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